


Sick and full of pride (All we do is drive)

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Cross Country, Ian POV, Ian escapes prison, Ian just wants to be with Mickey, Ian leaves with Mickey, Ian tries to make it right, M/M, Mickey is still hurt, Motels, Possible spoilers? I doubt I am a mind reader though, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8325589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: Mickey breaks out of prison and Ian decides wherever Mickey goes, he goes too.
But not everything can be that simple.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We have all heard the rumors. Who knows if they are true. We only know our darling Mickey is coming back. Before the writers break our hearts again, I wrote this to fix it before its broken. Well, its already broken but whatever. 
> 
> Comments are love. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I love these idiots.

  
  


  
  


  
  


You close your eyes as the L passes above you, screeching and pulling on the tracks. You smirk because you've never been much for metaphors, but this one seems pretty spot on for your current situation.

You aren't sure what you're doing here. You just know you panicked for a moment when Mandy's name flashed across your cell phone. But she assured you she was fine, even if her voice sounded rushed and panicked herself. She told you to go to "the spot" under the L by the bridge; a place she has to know you haven't been in a while. Not since...

You shake your head out of the thought and take another drag of the 5th cigarette you've had in the past 10 minutes because your nerves are shot, and not just from this. Your meds are back on track, as well as your head, but you still feel it screeching inside your skull sometimes, the looming mania. The crippling depression.

You've heard it said so many times before that when something big happens in your life, when the world tilts on its axis and the impossible happens, you can literally feel your life change. You were never able to describe the feeling because it's never happened to you before. Your life is constantly changing. Your world is always in upheaval. So this feeling that something big is about to happen, about to knock your life off course, it begins to creep under your skin, a tingle of anticipation. You swallow down the fear as it travels from your heart to your head through your throat and you have an instinct to run because you aren't sure you're ready for what's about to happen. Because something is happening.

A silver Jeep rounds the corner screeching its tires, the noise being drowned out by another train barreling by above your head and you know it. This is it. This is where everything changes.

The Jeep halts beside you, windows tinted in a darkness you're sure is for a reason that makes that feeling of your life changing second by second even more terrifying.

But you're ready. You're ready before the window even comes down on the driver's side.

He smirks at you and God, he's as beautiful as you remember.

"Get in, bitch. We're going on a trip."  
  


******  
  


Neither of you says a word until you pass the border into Missouri. It’s just the soft sounds of breathing and the rattling of the doors and the engine as he maintains a steady speed of 80 on the interstate. He's checking the rearview every now and then but with every passing mile his body gets calmer and his expression gets softer. You find yourself staring sometimes because you can’t believe you're here....that he's here...and you know what's happening. You aren't in some dream world where he got out on good behavior and he just wanted to take you on a cross-country trip. No, you knew what you were getting into the second you got into the car. You're in this now. You and him. Together. You just aren't sure why. You know what you did. You know how much you hurt him. You aren't delusional about that either. You wanna ask him. But now isn't the time.

"Didn't think you'd come." Mickey mumbles, giving you a quick glance.

"Wasn't; sure what I was exactly doing waiting there. Mandy was a bit cryptic." You pause, giving him a small smirk. "I see why now."

"The less you knew the better. Figured you'd either come or not."

"And I came."

Mickey smirks at the innuendo and grips the steering wheel tighter. "Didn't think you would." He repeats.

"Guess we can still surprise each other." You whisper watching the open road ahead of you.

You feel free.  
  


******  
  


You offer to drive a million times but he keeps telling you no. You pull off the highway once to get food in a drive thru and gas and you're back on the road again in 10 minutes. You don't ask where he's going. You figure there is time for that later. He just keeps driving. You fall asleep a few times, only dozing for 20 minutes a time. When the clock on the dashboard finally hits 11pm he pulls off into a motel designated for truckers and parks the Jeep in the back with the oversized haulers and he hands you money and asks if you can get the room in your name. You understand why. You tell him you have money, he shakes his head and shoves the money at you again. He looks straight ahead and waits for you to get out of the Jeep. You finally do, but you pocket the money and pay yourself.

You ask for a king size bed because you aren't sure what Mickey wants from you, but you know what you want just in case.

You realize as you unlock the room neither of you has clothes or a toothbrush or anything. He has a small bag with him and when you ask what it is he just eyes you and tells you "enough for us to get by for a while."

He says 'us' like it's that simple. Maybe it is. But you doubt it.

He drops the bag on the large bed and stares at it a big longer than he should like he's second guessing all of this. You watch his shoulders shrug and he walks into the bathroom without another word. You hear the shower come on and you make the decision to give him some space. It's been a long day, even if just for you. You have no idea what transpired before he picked you up. What he went through. What's coming. You should ask. You will. When it's time.

He comes out of the bathroom, wet and a towel wrapped around his waist and you notice how much more muscle he has now. Not much else to do in prison than work out and your dick stirs as you stare at him. His black hair dripping onto his chest he catches you watching. He smiles.

"Not tonight, tough guy."

He says it so calmly and you wonder what's changed inside him. You want to know everything. You want him. All of him. The realization hits you and you wonder how you made it this long without his face and his smirk and his tattooed fingers on your skin.

"But you...want me, right?" You sound like that desperate teen you were all those years ago when you two first met and he was just sneaking into the stock room of the Cash and Grab for a quickie and you would have done anything for him to just look at you for more than 10 seconds. You feel you're right back there again. But he isn't that same south side piece of trash. Maybe he is, but not to you.

He kneels on the bed, towel barely holding onto his waist and looks you in the eyes and you suddenly can't breathe. He stills does that to you and fuck you were such an idiot to let him go.

"The fuck do you think, Gallagher?"  
  


******  
  


You wake up with his arm around your waist and his breath against your neck. It reminds you of a simpler time, which is ironic because nothing about the two of you has ever been simple.

You know the day awaits you; a day of driving, running to who the fuck knows where, but you want to savor this moment. It's been so long since you've felt his arms around you; arms that have gotten bigger in the time away from him. Even with everything you know that must be charging through his mind, Mickey seems calmer to you. As if prison was maybe good for him. It's not something you think you should ask about, but the questions, so many questions, burn on the tip of your tongue. You never could just live in the moment, which is ironic in its own sense since bi-polar is nothing but that. But when it came to Mickey, you always wanted more. More feeling. More answers. More of him. And once you got it, it scared you. He became everything you wanted and you realized you were everything he didn't need.

Being this close to him again...it awakens something in you that you had no idea had died. It's not that you didn't think of Mickey. You did. Almost every day. He was a part of you. You tried having a relationship with someone 'normal' or at least what the people around you would consider normal. But you couldn't have been more wrong. Mickey did fucked up things to you. And when Caleb cheated, with a woman no less, it brought back feelings you thought you had long forgotten in those early years with Mickey. Watching Mickey have sex while his father watched and made you watch. Watching him marry someone else. It all came back to you in waves and you ended it with Caleb because you promised yourself you would not put yourself through any of that again. Caleb was supposed to be safe. Simple. But he wasn't.

It made you think about Mickey more than you ever had since he had been put in prison when things ended with Caleb. How you didn't want normal. It wasn't who you were and Mickey knew that. And wanted you anyway. He wanted you crazy or sane. He wanted you dancing in a gay club in tight gold shorts or drunk and singing 80's song in the middle of the street at 11pm. He wanted everything you were and you broke up with him because you thought he was trying to change you. He wasn't. He was just trying to understand.

And now with his skin on yours, you can't help but feel like this could be a second chance. He's running and what possible good could come from all of this, but you don't care. You turn in his arms and study his long lashes against his cheeks and mouth slightly open as he sleeps. You run your fingertip along the scar that has now formed over his heart when your name is etched. You smile because even if it's spelled wrong, it's the most romantic thing he could have done. It's Mickey's way. Carve your name on his skin. Show the world whose bitch you are. You see now what he was trying to say. You hear him now. You're listening.

"The fuck you doing up?" Mickey mumbles and you smile harder.

"Don't you wanna get back on the road?" You whisper. God, you want to bury your face in his neck, smell his skin, but you don't. Not yet. Not until he tells you that you can. You deserve the punishment of having to wait.

He groans and his eyes flutter open. They are always so blue in the morning. "Fuck. Guess so." He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair. "What?" You're staring. You know that.

"Why didn't you get this covered? Or marked up?" You poke at the tattoo again and he sighs a little leaning back against the pillows and looks at you through sleepy eyes.

"What for? You think just because..." he trails off. "I just didn't." He pushes himself up and pads into the bathroom, scratching at his ass and you catch a glimpse of it and fuck you can't stop smiling.

You sit up and rub the heels of your hands into your eyes. A habit you picked up from him. 

"Why'd you ask me to come, Mick? Why me?" You aren't sure if he hears you because the toilet flushes not long after you ask and it takes him a minute or two to emerge in the doorway. He leans himself against the door jamb and folds his arms.

"Truth?"

You nod.

"Just nobody else I'd rather be running from the cops with."

You wanna kiss him. But you don't. You don't deserve to yet.

You don't say another word to each other as you get dressed.  
  


******  
  


He finally kisses you in Oklahoma 2 days later. You stop for food at some crappy roadside diner and he's picking coleslaw out of his teeth with a toothpick outside of the Jeep and you're watching him, as you always do, and he rolls his eyes and leans over and kisses you.

You know he means for it to be quick. Just an _'okay, fine. Here you go. Quit looking at me like that'_ kinda kiss, but it isn't. The second your lips touch you both forget where you are. Who you are. Everything that's happened between the two of you. There is just lips and tongue and his hands are scratching at the back of your neck as he pushes you against the hood of the Jeep and you'd fuck him right here if he'd let you. He finally pulls back abruptly, eyes wild and out of breath.

"We gotta go."

He's in the car before you can stand up straight.  
  


******  
  


"Are you punishing me?"

You're somewhere in Texas in a field watching cattle with just the stars above you. He takes a large gulp of his 40 and doesn't look at you.

"Just makin' sure."

"Of what?"

He glances at you, passing the can to you. "That you ain't gonna leave again."

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Sure. You've always been here, Gallagher. That ain't the point."

You down the rest of the can and burp loudly into the quiet night air. You aren't sure how to respond to that.  
  


******  
  


Somehow you end in New Orleans, totally off track and out of the way of where you thought you were going. You finally talked to Lip, assuring him you're fine. No, this isn't a manic episode, and if the cops come looking for him and Mickey, he hasn't heard from them. Lip wants to ask, you can hear the hesitation in his voice, but he doesn't. He just tells you to be careful and that you know where home is. You promise him you do.

You then throw your cell into the Gulf of Mexico.

Mickey finally lets you fuck him one night after getting fall down drunk in a bar where another couple tries to get you and Mickey to come back to their hotel with them. You almost agree, but Mickey pulls his possessive act and yanks you out of there so fast, you barely have enough time to get your pants undone before you push into him for the first time in over a year in some alley by the bar. He's warm and tight and perfect like you remember and he begs you to fuck him harder by saying your first name instead of your last and you blink back tears because all you want to do is tell him how much you love him and missed him and how sorry you are.

When you finish you walk back to your motel and you wake up for the first time since you left Chicago without his arms around you.  
  


******  
  


"Do you even want me here anymore?"

He looks up at you, playing card mid-air as he is about to deal himself another game of solitaire. The two of you have settled yourselves somewhere in Mississippi in a town where no one really talks to each other and no one makes eye contact. Exactly what Mickey wants. He sets the deck down and leans back in the folding chair. He crosses his arms.

"Yeah, I do. Do you want to be here?"

"What the fuck does that mean? Of course, I do! I left my entire life back in Chicago. My job, my family-"

"I didn't ask you to."

You blink at him, mouth agape. "Are you kidding me, Mick?"

"Did you think this was gonna be some kind of fuckin' vacation, Gallagher? I'm running from the fuckin' cops! I broke out of fuckin' jail. This is life now. You didn't have to come. I thought you knew what you were gettin' yourself into." The chair screeches across the floor as he stands and it reminds you of the L back home. Fuck. Home.

"I just wanted to be with you." You admit.

He nods. "Well, how you liken' it so far? Romantic enough for you?"

"Yes."

He snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"You don't touch me. You don't kiss me. What am I? What is going on between us?" You sound so pathetic. You know it.

Mickey's eyes blaze with anger. "Are you ever even going to apologize to me?"

"What?"

"You don't think I deserve answers? An I'm sorry? An explanation?"

"I gave you one the day I ended things! I'm sick! And you thought you had to fix me-"

"I didn't think I had to fix fuck all, Ian. I just wanted us to be together. I was just tryin' to help you. You took what was wrong with you and made it all about you. You didn't remember I was the one on the other side always waitin'. But you thought you were what? Doing me some kind of favor? Well, you didn't. You fucked me up, Gallagher. Maybe I deserved it. Karma or some shit. But fuck, man. Yeah, I wanted you with me. But fuck I thought you'd give me somethin’." He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"I was giving you what I thought you wanted. I was trying to do things at your pace." You feel your hands begin to shake. "So you've been punishing me. For hurting you."

"I wasn't gonna....do all this again Ian if it wasn't real. If you were just gonna...take fuckin' off again."

"I’m not. I...I’m not.”

"I've just been tryin' to figure out what it is you fuckin' want." He almost smirks

'You, Mick. Just you."

He sighs and looks up at you, eyes shining bluer than you've ever seen them. "Okay."

You find yourself kneeling before him, his face in your hands as you tell him how sorry you are so many times you lose count. You cry and when you see tears form in his beautiful eyes it makes you cry harder and he grabs you up and into his arms. He holds you for hours until you mold into each other's bodies and you aren't sure where one of you ends and the other begins. You spend the next 2 days in bed, mapping out the things on each other's bodies that have changed and all the ones that have stayed the same. You laugh and tell each other stories of all the shit you missed with one another. You talk about the future, something that neither of you has ever done.

The two of you end up staying in that no name town in Mississippi. He ends up finding a way to get you the meds you need. You don't ask how. He'd never tell you anyway.

One day someone will come looking for him. Or you. But until then you have this. You have each other. And you realize now that's all you ever really wanted.


End file.
